It's Not a Fairytale
by Lady Callista
Summary: Emma doesn't need a fairytale proposal. She just needs him. (post 6x13)


Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Once Upon A Time. ABC, Disney, the amazing A&E, and whoever else have that distinction. No profit is being made, and no copywrite infringement in intended.

AN: Yeah, I know I have two long WIPs, but I haven't had time to write in months, and my muse seemed to have completely abandoned me. Well, she's back and I finally have time, so I'll be getting to the others shortly. But this just had to come first, sorry. Because I'm seeing too much negativity about this, especially from CS fans, and I kinda see where Emma's coming from here.

* * *

It's Not A Fairytale

by Lady Callista

It's not a fairytale proposal. They aren't out at some romantic dinner, they aren't dancing under the stars on the deck of his ship, they aren't curled up together in front of a fire. There aren't candles, or music, or heart-felt declarations.

There's just the two of them, and the way they feel about each other.

There's just a foyer, in a house he chose for her.

There's just a ring. A ring she hasn't been able to put down since she found it.

OoOoO A little while ago OoOoO

Emma hummed to herself as she snatched her clothes from the night before off the floor and tossed them in the laundry basket, wondering where her bra was. A quick glance around located it hanging off the back of a chair, and she grinned with the memory of how it had gotten there as she added it to the basket.

She'd been on edge all day, and decided to work some of her excess energy off by cleaning up a bit.

Her magic power, her special sense, was still tingling every time she was around Killian. He hadn't lied to her yesterday, everything he'd said had been completely truthful, but she knew there was something else.

There was something else, or something more, and she was driving herself crazy wondering what it could be. She trusted him, and knew he'd tell her when he was ready, but she'd never been one for patience so she'd distracted herself with cleaning.

As she looked around the bedroom though, she realized she was out of things to do.

Whether it was leftover from his military training or just the product of spending most of his life living on ships, she wasn't sure, but Killian always kept things clean and tidy. It was never his clothes on the floor, or his empty glasses leaving rings on the oak bedside tables.

Not that he ever seemed to mind that she was a little bit of a slob, Emma thought with a grin, although he had teased her a few days ago that perhaps she wouldn't make as good a pirate as he'd thought if she couldn't keep things _ship shape._

Glancing around the room again, her eyes fell to the chest he'd brought over from the Jolly Roger.

They'd gone through part of it together one night after he first moved in, him telling her various stories about some of the things he'd collected, her comforting him when his eyes filled upon picking up Liam's rank insignia.

Some of the things were already spread around the house, adding character to it and making Emma smile every time she saw them. It wasn't just her house anymore, it was theirs.

They'd only gotten to go through about half of it though, too tired after a long day of trying to deal with all the problems currently facing them and Storybrooke.

Emma wandered over to the chest, her fingers skimming over the worn wood. She wondered what else was in it, what other stories and memories he had to share with her. She remembered the look in his eyes, the soft wonder, all those months ago when she'd shared her own box of trinkets with him.

Her fingers toyed with the latch, wondering if he would mind if she looked through the things without him. He hadn't told her not to, he hadn't locked it, and it was in their bedroom. Surely if he minded he would have said something, or locked it, or...

Emma shook her head to clear her thoughts and knelt down, opening the chest with a soft creak. It wasn't like they had anything to hide from each other, not anymore, and she could already see his soft smile when he came home and found more of his things out around the house. When he saw just how much she wanted to make it their home, even more clearly than it already was.

A few of his pirate shirts were folded on top, which made Emma tilt her head in confusion. She'd thought all his clothes were in the closet already. She drew the shirts out and tossed them towards the laundry basket, figuring it couldn't hurt to wash them first.

And then she froze, her eyes landing on the black velvet box that had been hidden under the shirts.

Put the shirts back, close the chest, and walk away, one part of her brain screamed at her. It might not even be what you think, and if it is he'll tell you, he'll _ask_ you, when he's ready. It explains why he's been off, but don't ruin it for him, don't...

It explains why he's been off, the thought repeated again in her head. It's not that he's not ready, of course he is or he wouldn't have gotten the ring in the first place. _It's that he's afraid you're not._

Everything suddenly made sense to Emma, and she was moving almost before she realized it, reaching out with trembling fingers to pick the box up and open it. The diamond caught the sun, and for a moment it was all she could do to breath.

Emma waited for the panic, the fear, the desire to run; they never came.

All that came was a burst of excitement and love, and that's how she knew it was right.

The box fell unnoticed from her fingers as she held the ring in the light, smiling as it sent little prisms of color dancing around the room.

The little voice in her head was still telling her to put it back, to not let on that she knew, but she just couldn't do it. It explained why he'd been so distant last night, why he'd seemed almost nervous when talking to her this morning. There had been something he was trying to say and just couldn't seem to get out, and she felt awful about it now.

She'd been the one to kiss him first, the one to ask him on a date, the one to ask him to move in. He'd always let her lead, and it made complete sense why this was bothering him so much, beyond just the fact that it seemed every guy was always a bit nervous about popping the question.

Her damned patient pirate didn't want to push her, didn't want her to run like she'd done all too often in the past. He was waiting for some kind of sign that she was ready, waiting to make sure she'd be excited and not nervous.

She could try to give him a sign, try to find some way to bring it up. But she knew he'd see right through her as he always did. He'd know that she knew, and then it would be ruined anyway.

But what was she ruining, really? She didn't need a grand gesture from him, didn't need a romantic date or a long build-up or a sweet, sappy speech that told her all the things his eyes told her every day. And she hated how out of sorts he was because of this.

The excitement and joy and love bubble up in her when she hears the door open downstairs, hears him call out to her.

She doesn't want to wait for a perfect moment, with the way their lives go that could take forever. She doesn't want him nervous and fumbling and all the things he isn't.

She doesn't want a fairytale proposal. She just wants him.

With no other thoughts in her mind but how much she loves him, and how much she wants this beginning, this symbol of the forever they've already promised each other, she gets up and runs down the stairs.

OoOoO

It's not a fairytale proposal. They aren't out at some romantic dinner, they aren't dancing under the stars on the deck of his ship, they aren't curled up together in front of a fire. There aren't candles, or music, or heart-felt declarations.

There's just the two of them, and the way they feel about each other.

There's just a foyer, in a house he chose for her.

There's just a ring on her finger and the man she loves kissing her and holding her.

And that's more than she ever thought she'd have, and all that she needs.

THE END


End file.
